


Sold!

by Skierunner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Auction, F/F, First Meetings, One Shot, Ouihaw, inspired by a country song fight me, trigger warning: cheesy one liners and puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skierunner/pseuds/Skierunner
Summary: Ashe and Bob are at a black market arms auction selling their wares when Ashe catches sight of a drop-dead gorgeous woman.(In honor of Femslash February)





	Sold!

Ashe sat atop one of her weapons crates, leaning on her knees with her chin in her hand, and watched the crowd with a bored expression. Nothing but rich folks buying overpriced weapons for profitable wars. If it weren’t so damn fun robbing trains and diverting weapons deliveries, she wouldn’t even bother selling the stock. As it was, their base was practically overflowing with munitions. It’s come down to moving units or moving out, which is why she was here, in this posh mansion, eating posh prawns, watching posh people poshly pretending they were any better than the dealers they were buying from.

God she hated these auctions.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Ashe turned to see Bob staring at her meaningfully. She waited for him to explain himself, but he remained silent as ever. She rolled her eyes. “ _What_ , Bob?” He started and quickly pointed in an apparently random direction towards the crowd. Following his line of sight, Ashe’s own eyes widened. She knew Bob was probably pointing to the tall, muscular, finely-dressed man towering over the crowd. Even at a distance, she could immediately recognize Akande Ogundimu, Talon leader. Bob was good at picking out the creme de la creme even at the most high-society functions, but this time he was off his mark. It wasn’t the notorious war lord that caught Ashe’s eye, but the woman behind him.

“Would you look at that,” she whispered, tilting up her hat and leaning forward. Beside her, Bob swiveled his head between her and Ogundimu, confused. Tall, lithe, dark with an edge— this woman checked all the right boxes and Ashe’s heart skipped several beats. Her dark, stunningly long hair was tied in a high ponytail, highlighting the graceful curve of her neck. The long, black dress she wore further accentuated her form, the silk clinging to every rise and fall of her body. Clearly she was there as a buyer, surveying the wares with a practiced, critical eye. Judging by the woman’s very modern, high-collared dress that was _oh so obviously_ designer, Ashe had no doubt that she wouldn’t be phased by any number of zeros on a price tag. “Bob, watch the merch. I’m gonna place a bid.” She slid through the crowd, weaving between the overdressed patrons, never losing sight of her target. Careful to sidle up to her smoothly, but obvious enough to not startle her, Ashe said the first thing that came to her mind. “D’you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

The woman turned and looked down— down! She must be close to six foot in her heels— at her, unimpressed. “ _Je vous demande pardon_?”

Oh, foreign? She had a line for that too: “I knew you were French from the moment _Eiffel_ for you.”

The woman’s lipped curled. “Ugh, Americans.” She turned away from Ashe. “Akande, I am tiring of this.”

But Ogundimu waved her off, keen on some high-grade explosives. “You are always tiring of things, Amélie.”

“Amélie?” Ashe said, letting the syllables roll off her tongue pleasantly. The French woman stiffened. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Deliberately keeping her back turned to Ashe, Amélie moved to a new vendor even as she addressed her. “Be gone, pest. Insects should not trouble spiders.”

“You’re right, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. Name’s Ashe. Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe, though on the circuit they call me Calamity.”

“Because you are a disaster?” There it was— the first flicker of amusement. It was malicious and edged, but that’s all Ashe needed.

“Honey, I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

“Is that so?” Amélie said, finally facing her and stepping close, reaching out and _cupping her face holy shit she couldn’t breathe_. “Then I want you,” she tightened her grip, nails digging in to Ashe’s face, “to leave.”

“With you?” Ashe asked through the haze of endorphins. “I’m flattered, but don’t you think we should get to know each other first?” Making a sophisticated noise of disgust, Amélie turned away from her, high ponytail swinging silkily with the movement. “What brings a woman like you to a place like this, anyhow? Buyin’? Sellin’? Browsin’ the… selection?”

“If I tell you, will you leave?”

“But what if I have what you’re lookin’ for, darlin’?” Ashe asked, mustering up her most dazzling grin.

“I doubt that you have the quality or,” Amélie looked her up and down pointedly, “ _caliber_ that I desire.”

“Well, I’d say that there’s only one way to find out.” Ashe guided Amélie to her cache. “Bob! Make busy, we have a customer. Now what do you like, sugar? Small, compact pistols? Something as sleek, beautiful, and deadly as you are?”

“I prefer weapons with…” She stretched out a long, slender arm, aiming at some unseen target and took an imaginary shot. “Reach.”

Captivated, Ashe had to remind herself to speak. “A woman after my own heart! Bob, bring out the sniper rifles.” Bob shuffled to the back of the pile of crates, returning with a long, thin, but wide crate. Ashe knelt behind it, hands preparing to open the lid. “Let’s see how the lady likes _these_.” She slowly raised the lid, eyes never leaving Amélie ’s face. It was delicious, watching the French woman’s amber eyes glitter and widen at the weapons Ashe laid before her, seeing her lips part breathlessly. “Ah, so I’ve found what your heart desires.”

“My heart desires nothing,” Amélie said dismissively, examining the first of the rifles.

“That’s a shame--I’m sure you leave a trail of broken hearts where ever you go.”

“ _Non_ ,” she actually _chuckled_. “Only broken bodies.”

“Because you’re drop dead gorgeous?”

“Yes,” Amélie deadpanned. “Now, drop dead, _sil vous plait_.”

“Sweetheart, you could kill me with nothin’ but a smile.”

“Why smile when a bullet will do?” Mother Mary help her, she’s already fallen in love.

“I’ve bought what we came here for,” a new voice said. Ashe had to suppress a scowl because no matter how unwelcome he was, it would never be wise to insult Ogundimu. “We can depart whenever you are ready.” His eyes locked on to the weapon in Amélie’s hands. “A new toy?”

Amélie’s eyes never left Ashe, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Something like that.” But she put the rifle down and picked up a smaller one. It was Ashe’s personal favorite and she’d hate to sell it, but she had already bid her heart goodbye, what was one more prized possession? “This does not appear to be a traditional sniper rifle.”

“It ain’t,” Ashe agreed. “That’s Kissin’ Kate. In it’s contracted form it functions as a semi-automatic. Press this switch here, and it expands to its most powerful form.”

“Oh? I can have my cake and eat it, too? Delightful.” Amélie produced a black card from seemingly nowhere, as she wasn’t carrying a purse and Ashe was _positive_ that the skin-tight dress didn’t have pockets. “I want it.”

“Then you have it,” Ashe said, but made no move for the card. “Free of charge.” Somewhere behind her, she could hear Bob’s gears whirring in distress. “Just a little somethin’ to remember me by.”

“That is generous of you. I must say, I am notoriously forgetful,” She purred, producing another card. This one was a thick, luxurious calling card with no name, only a stylized spider and gold-embossed numbers underneath. “Why don’t you remind me sometime?”

Ashe took the card with a dopy smile and numb fingers. Distantly, she could hear Ogundimu laughing. “The spider lures another fly to her web,” he said.

“Please.” To Ashe, “ _Au revoir_ , disaster. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

There was a moment of panic when Ashe realized that she was already leaving, leaving her with nothing but a number, not even— “No goodbye kiss?”

Amélie’s lips curled into a smirk. Raising her hand to her lips, she blew a kiss. Ashe mimed catching it out of the air and putting it in her pocket. Dulcet laughter drifted back to her as Ogundimu and Amélie walked away, out the mansion and away from the black market auction.

“Wow,” Ashe breathed, one hand over her heart. “Sold, to the woman in the long black dress.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fic inspired by the song “Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)” by John Michael Montgomery.


End file.
